大象传媒

The following story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Marushka (Maria) and Zygmunt Skarbek-Kruszewski and George (Jurek) Zygmunt Skarbek.

From the moment of the uprising we were quite cut off. The telephones did not work, nobody had a radio, the paper published on the morning of the uprising never reached the streets. As there was no communication between the suburbs, the London bulletin did not reach us either. The news travelling around our block came from some elusive sources. Someone had heard from someone in the next house who had a radio ... all our information centres were only of this kind. Standing on the balcony and just looking down I would know when news arrived. Someone would stop somebody and start to talk earnestly, others would join and listen, the group would grow and then disperse. Men would rush home and news would travel through the whole building. The same was happening just now. Amidst the increasing group I saw an unfamiliar face and came down the stairs. For the first time a woman from outside came to our block (from Kielecka Street). Sneaking through parks and backyards, she had reached our block. The situation in Kielecka Street was very similar to ours. The partisans had also left. There were also no Germans - they, like us, were in no man's land.
"What is happening in the city? Where are the Russians?" Questions came from all sides.
"The heart of the city is in the hands of the insurgents, our white/red banner is flying on the Town Hall."
"The Russians have already taken Praga and are near Grochow,鈥� she continued, proud of her mission.
This news was accepted without criticism - one simply wanted to believe. Nobody even asked where this news came from. Why should one ask? Our banner was flying on the Town Hall .. and everyone knows that the German situation is quite hopeless .. one does not have to know strategy ...
The mood was happy, the August weather was good and the evening quiet. Even the pigeons which disappeared during the noisy first day of the uprising started to come back, circling the roofs and, with friendly cooing, settled on the trees of the yard.
The night of the second day of the uprising passed quietly. At dawn some planes circled over Warsaw. Making large circles, they were flying very high. Even with binoculars I was unable to read the markings. Many people were already in the basements, some standing near open doors scanning the sky with field glasses. Some were certain that the planes were Russian, others just as certain that they were German. Others were ready to take an oath that they were English. From inside the basement, an elderly lady intervened.
"It is unimportant to which side the planes belong - each of them can bomb Warsaw. The Germans will bomb and shoot the Poles. The British and American ones will shoot the Germans. The Soviet planes" - here she hesitated a second - "could shoot one or the others. It is important that the doors of the shelter are closed. I ask you, sirs, please come inside and kindly shut the door."
Shortly after the doors were shut, sounds of shots and hollow drumming came from the street. The vibrations were so strong that the walls of the basement were shaking as if in an earthquake. Our anxiety grew during this unknown trembling. There was no detonation. We started to get up when a man rushed into the basement screaming "Tanks are coming along Rakowiecka Street." Through the open door an ominous sound of grating metal and continuous drumming of cannons reached us. Through the small, dirty basement window I could see the pavement and metal caterpillar tracks of large tanks. They were grinding along the pavement. I could not see their tops but could hear their gunfire as they were firing in front of them. They passed us fairly quickly. The walls stopped trembling. All of us were excited. Could they have been Soviet tanks? Comments, guesses and surmises were coming from all sides.
"Of course they could be Soviet tanks. You heard yourself from the lady in Kielecka Street that already yesterday Praga was in Soviet hands."
"My God, could it really be the end of the uprising" sighed a young woman with a child in her hands. She looked exhausted and depressed, and no wonder. Three days before at half past four she went shopping with the baby, leaving her other girl at home, a few streets from us. The first shots caught her at our gate where she took shelter and here she was to remain. "It is already three days that I have been here with my baby" she was crying "and my little girl is quite alone. Three days and three nights uncared for, unfed. My husband had not returned from work,鈥� she continued, sobbing.
The planes left. People gathered in the yard. Unfortunately all hopes concerning the tanks were crushed. There were eyewitnesses. They were German tanks.
Faces became solemn, there was little talk, depression hung heavily over us and we were still cut off from the rest of the world. They were very disappointed people who went home to prepare a meal. This task was not easy, as food supplies in homes were getting quite low. We particularly missed tomatoes and bread. We sat down to some thin soup, artificially flavoured. There was not much talk, the mood was gloomy. Three days of uprising, three sleepless nights. The German tanks did not promise a good future. In addition, Czeslaw's dilemma: Should he actively join the insurgents or shouldn't he? Should he just passively wait for future developments? For the last two days he could not make up his mind.
Czeslaw was rather an unusual Pole. He was a product of international conflicts. He came from Lithuania where there e many families having to solve the same kind of problem. It was the aftermath of Polish/Lithuanian Union in the XV century. From one and the same family nest, the offspring could be of different nationalities. This was the case in Czeslaw's family. Czeslaw considered himself a true Pole and belonged to Polish organisations in Lithuania. His brother was a Lithuanian who stayed home to fight for his Lithuanian country. Czeslaw came to Poland, his adopted, chosen country. He was given a Polish Christian name but had a Lithuanian surname. He matriculated at a Polish school but finished at a Lithuanian University. He worked for the Polish community whilst living in Lithuania and longing for Poland. One of his sisters felt the same way, another was indifferent, but he dearly loved all his family. Different national feelings between the members of one family was not unusual Lithuania.
Pushing away his empty plate, Czeslaw said
"I have to join the group of insurgents in our block I should have done it sooner - now I should be fighting instead sitting in this prison."
"Does fighting as such attract you or do you consider it your duty? Or maybe your chosen profession?" I asked, being in a pacifist mood.
"I consider that fighting makes sense and is justified if it is the only way to defend my ideals or to protect the public welfare."
"For which ideal would you be fighting now?"
"For the most important one - the independence of our country "
"How do you imagine this independence?"
"Quite simply - a free country where Poles are ruling."
"I don't think it is that simple,鈥� I remarked.
"Why not?"
"You must realise that today we are unable to achieve our aim fighting alone."
"So what?"
"Fighting the Germans, we have to accept the help of the Soviets."
"Certainly."
"But it is also certain that, having accepted their help, it will be their armies pushing the Germans out of our country and that, being allies, we will have to co-operate with them. We will have to agree to their political programme. Yes or no?"
"Not necessarily."
"Not necessarily? I don't even know if they will be asking anyone. All Poland will be under their military control. Of course it will be very tempting for them to bring into our country their political ideas and the same administration as they have in their Soviet Union. It is self-evident from the principles of the Communist doctrines. In Lublin (a large city in east Poland) a complete administration organised by the Russians and headed by our Polish Communists is already waiting to take power. I think that the Russian radio station 'Tadeusz Kosciuszko', broadcasting in Polish, fully explained the political programme and aim of the Association of Polish Patriots - this means Polish Communists living in the Soviet Union."
"Yes, but don't forget there is still England and America. They will not allow it to happen."
"What will they not allow to happen?"
"Poland to become a Communist country.鈥�
"There you are, now you are getting to the core of the matter. We are all speaking about independence, about free Poland, but in reality we are thinking about a system of government which suits us best. For you, independence means Christian bourgeois democracy; for other radicals - it is the People's Republic. To reach the desired aim some will welcome the help of England, others the help of Russia. Therefore we have a Mr. Bierut* - Polish Communist leader in Moscow, and Mr. Raczkiewisz* leader of Polish liberals in London. Therefore we have General Sosnkowski - Commander-in-Chief of the Polish exile army in London, and General Berling* - Commander-in-Chief of Polish Red troops in the Soviet Union. Therefore there is the A.K.* - white underground armed forces and A.L.* - red underground armed forces.
"Can we say with a clear conscience that we all aspire to the one goal? Do you think that General Bor-Komorowski*, Chief Commander of A.K. has co-ordinated his military strategy with General Berling, Chief Commander of A.L.? And that Prime Minister Mikolayjczk* his political ideas with Prime Minister Osobka-Morawski*? Already for three days Warsaw has been fighting and bleeding and at this time they are bartering in Moscow about Poland's future government. 鈥淥ur history" - I continued - "gave us many sad examples in the so-called 'aspiration of common aim'. Just as well that this time our emigrant leaders found some support with foreign allies, otherwise Poles would now be fighting each other. Is there is just the one common cause? Independence? Democracy? Those are just words, not the real issue. Why should we deceive ourselves? In Poland before 1939 did the words independence and democracy have the same meaning for a landless peasant as for the wealthy mine owner? For whose independence are we fighting?"
Czeslaw interrupted - "You and your politics. There are historical moments when one has to fight and not talk. If everyone was just criticising and trying to predict, it would not even have come to an uprising!"
"Who knows? Maybe that would have been better than an abortive attempt. Our history has many such examples. Warsaw is burning, her people are dying and somehow our allies don't seem to be in a hurry. In the meantime the Germans are swarming over the streets with their soldiers and tanks and shooting as they like and we have not even enough ordinary rifles. This is the result of action taken without previous political discussions. First a slogan is given and later politics are made. Who knows the outcome of the Moscow conference?"
"Now we have a common cause which unites us all - to fight the Germans. They are our enemies and therefore we all have to mount the barricades with guns in our hands."
"And after that? Which of our allies will have the deciding voice, sitting in the ruins of free Warsaw? To whom of the powerful protectors will the 'independent' land belong? Who amongst the people will be the hero and who the traitor?"
Czeslaw interrupted, 鈥淒efeatism, it is ...鈥�
"What you are saying is sheer鈥︹�� he did not finish. On the staircase we suddenly heard loud noises of boots, yells, banging doors.
Opening the door a crack I heard voices in German. "Where are the men?" Closing the door silently, I called out in a hoarse whisper, "Germans!" We all jumped up from the table. What were we to do? Where were we to hide? It was certain that the Germans in our house were looking for partisans. How would they distinguish a partisan from an ordinary Warsaw inhabitant? There was no way at all. There were no documents and the same civilian 'uniform' for all. Searching for insurgents was a very simplified procedure. Czeslaw had the answer to his questions. We were two young men not living permanently in this house from which partisans were shooting and where a First Aid Station had been organised. We did not know whether the Germans would kill the men on the spot or treat them as prisoners of war. We could not flee from the third floor and the Germans were already moving up the stairs. There was only one way left - to hide in the flat and hope for the best, that the search would only be a superficial one. Marushka and Auntie would have to say that no men were living in this flat. We started looking for a hiding place, expecting the Germans any minute. Czeslaw hid inside a wardrobe, I on the entresol (a small, long shelf under the ceiling) of the kitchen. Marushka, taking away the ladder, covered me with empty suitcases. I asked Marushka to hide our hats and overcoats that were hanging in the hall and leave only two plates on the table. I also asked her to appear calm and not to show any nervousness, even during the search. Marushka performed all these instructions superbly and I was deeply impressed. Even her voice sounded un-troubled during the last moments of preparation. I knew how this sensitive woman was feeling and admired her full control over her emotions in moments of extreme danger for her husband and her close friend. I will never forget the moment when, after adjusting her glasses nervously, she calmly and thoroughly inspected the hiding places. Seconds and probably minutes were hurrying by. For the first time in my life I could hear with my own ears the beating of my heart, could feel the hot blood rushing to my temples and thoughts, trivial and important, rushed through my head at the same time. Then, for a few seconds, jut an empty feeling... I could hear the ticking of the clock and thought perhaps I will live only fifteen minutes ... thirty seven years and fifteen minutes. Why those fifteen minutes? Maybe because they are so hard to take. The suitcase pushing into my back was not leather, only imitation ... if they shoot in the head would it be instantaneous or would death take a few minutes of terrible pain? I saw my mother's face, but why is she smiling? That is silly. A stomping of boots on the stairs ... they were coming. Suddenly I became calm - an odd senseless calm. Something had happened to me. I felt empty ... waiting for my destiny.
Marushka is waiting for the bell to ring. Again seconds pass, minutes. Some doors are banging on the floor below. Silence? I can't hear the stomping of boots .. minutes pass - nothing. Marushka is opening the door slightly ... silence ... she goes out to the stairway. From my hiding place I can hear voices on the staircase. Marushka returns and says only two words - words like soothing balm ... "They've left."

颁辞苍迟颈苍耻别诲鈥︹赌�
'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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